The Paternal Endeavour
by Bella Duveen79
Summary: On the way to Amy's cousin's wedding, Sheldon tells her about the camping trip he took with his father and brother, but was it really as bad as he remembered it? A look back at the Cooper clan, and George's attempt to bond with his boys. One shot.


**The Paternal Endeavour**

Galveston, July 1985

_The small, dark haired boy ran through the park, pretending to be The Flash, the fastest man alive. He could hear his older brother racing behind him, playing too, but he couldn't catch him. Five year old Sheldon Cooper laughed as he turned to look back, but as he did so, slipped on the dry grass and came down heavily on the hard ground. The shock seemed to go right through him, and as he caught sight of the blood running down his bare leg, let out a huge wail and started to cry._

'_Daddy!' he screamed, as seven year old George Jr caught up with him. Their father hastily stubbed out his Marlboro, and rushed over as soon as he saw his younger boy go down._

'_Hey, Shelly,' he said, kneeling down next to him. 'You OK?'_

'_No!' Sheldon sobbed. 'It's bleeding!' He pointed to the small graze with red beads amongst the grass stains, screwing his face up miserably._

_George gave him a brief rub on the shoulder, and reached into his pocket for a small packet of tissues. Noticing them, Sheldon was struck by another concern, other than bleeding to death right there in the playground._

'_Daddy? They're clean, right?'_

_His father gave a resigned smile, and shook his head slightly. What was with that boy?_

'_Yeah, they're clean. Now, c'mon, you not still cryin'? Only girls an' hippies cry,' he continued, pressing the tissues to Sheldon's knee. 'You're a man, right?'_

_The little boy nodded solemnly through subsiding tears. He didn't know what a hippie was, but it didn't sound like a good thing to be…_

Sheldon woke up with a start. For a moment, he didn't know where he was, then as his eyes adjusted to the darkened room, lay back and looked over at the time on his phone. It was 2.15 in the morning, and he needed to get some sleep before a day spent trying to be polite in the company of Amy's relatives at that darn wedding, but couldn't get the dream out of his mind. Funny that he should have remembered that…his father had been looking after them that day. Missy had gone to some birthday party, and his mother and Meemaw were at a church committee meeting. By then, of course, committee meetings were a bit much for Pop-Pop. No-one had wanted to say cancer, not around the kids, but it was.

Stranger still, that on this occasion, it wasn't Pop-Pop that he'd been remembering…Eventually Sheldon fell back to sleep, but found his thoughts turning down a similar road later that day, on the way to the wedding. He'd been telling Amy all about some camping trip with his father and brother that he'd been obligated to take part in, to which she replied:

'Sheldon, have you considered that your father may have been trying to bond with you? I'm given to understand such activities, analogous to hunting, fishing, sharing some form of alcoholic beverage, are all ways in which fathers and sons interact.'

Sheldon looked slightly sulky at that. 'Well, he didn't do a very good job,' but was uncharacteristically quiet for the next half hour or so. He'd never really considered that…

Amarillo, August 1992

The drive had been hot, long and aggravating. Twelve year old Sheldon Cooper had spent far too long squashed between his brother and sister in the middle of the back seat, and he was particularly snappy and sulky as a result. Looking up, he noticed with exasperation that his father continued to drive in his customary irresponsible fashion with the window down and one elbow leaning out, while his mother was apparently engrossed in some overpriced tat with a grinning televangelist on the cover. _Really? That's what she's reading?_

Eventually, when caught in the middle of some small war between Missy and George Jr, the Cooper family arrived at the dusty hamlet near Amarillo, and pulled up outside Aunt Ada's house. Wearily, they piled out to be met by the elderly, yet still rather tall, lady, who came to welcome them in.

'George, Mary, it's so good to see you an' the kids! An' Sheldon too, I thought you said he weren't at home no more?'

'Yeah, he's at college,' George explained, with a hint of pride. He couldn't understand how it had happened and the last thing he wanted to do was to bring up the cost, but there was something about that boy, something special. 'He's home for vacation.'

'Yeah, but Mom goes to class with him!' added George Jr. 'How cool does that look, Shelly?'

'Junior, you watch your mouth!' Mary admonished him sharply. 'Now you get on an' help carry those bags!'

'Why ain't they carrying bags?' George Jr whined, sounding not unlike his brother, as he indicated Sheldon and Missy.

'Missy's a lady, she don't carry bags, and Shelly, he's got folders an' that for sciencey stuff,' his mother replied, following her husband inside.

'I reckoned as you two an' Missy could sleep up in the guest room an' you two boys could bunk down here,' Ada Cooper continued as she showed them in. Sheldon's eyes widened in shock as he registered her words, and looked round at the small living room with a couple of camp beds leaning up against the wall in trepidation.

'But this is the living room!' he managed; not understanding why no-one else appeared to find this so wrong. 'We might as well eat in the hallway, shower in the kitchen! How do you expect me to sleep if I'm not in a bedroom?'

'Shelly…' Mary's voice sounded concerned, somewhat embarrassed. 'It's just for a couple days, an' Missy's too old to share with you boys no more!'

Sheldon looked from her to his father, not expecting any help there really, but trying anyway.

'You listen to your mother,' he stated, in a rare show of agreement. 'You're sleepin' down here, right?'

'Fine!' Sheldon finished, exasperated and rather distressed at how no-one understood.

'Well, I'll just go an' get y'all somethin' to drink,' Ada continued, breaking the silence. The rest of his family sat down, while Sheldon hovered uncertainly. He'd never been to this house. He didn't know anything about his Great Aunt's cleaning habits, or where he was best placed there.

'Sit down, Sheldon!' Missy said, practically grabbing at his arm and making him jump back and flinch.

'Ha ha, he thinks he's gonna get cooties or somethin'!' laughed George Jr, leaning back and grinning up at him.

'Junior!' It wasn't Mary this time. 'I won't tell you again.' Surprised, Sheldon looked over at his father, and brushed the floral sofa before gingerly sitting down. _Maybe it would be OK. At least he could get some work done._

Later that night, after Sheldon had eventually fallen asleep, Missy was woken slightly by a whispered conversation coming from her parents' bed. She tensed up, worried that this was another argument, but it didn't exactly sound like one, not a real one, anyway…

'So, I'm just sayin' it might help,' George said in a low voice, conscious of his sleeping daughter. 'You're always coddlin' the boy – reckon he ought to get out an' do normal stuff sometime.'

'How is lookin' after my son coddlin'?' Mary whispered back, hurt at the implication.

'Not lettin' him do stuff,' George replied, and sighed. Sheldon probably wouldn't want to anyway, but he had to try.

'I have tried to get that boy to every church social goin'! He went to Cotillion! An' you're sayin' I don't try?'

'Mary, I hated all that stuff growin' up. He does too! I'm talkin' about boy stuff, football, shootin', fishin', you know?'

Mary snorted in exasperation. _He'd hate that!_

'That's what you'd do?'

'Yeah, an' I was plannin' on taking him an' Junior out while we're here, out campin'. Off with the boys, but nothin' I do is right, is it?'

Mary felt a sting of guilt at his words. Maybe he was right. Neither of them really knew what they were doing when it came to Sheldon.

'OK. OK, you take 'em.' She paused for a moment. 'I guess we're both tryin'.'

'Yeah.' They were quiet then, and turned away from each other, not sure if they were talking about Sheldon or their marriage, and fell into the unsettled sleep that they knew all too well, caused by words either unsaid or said too much.

That morning, George put his proposal to the boys after breakfast.

'Hey Junior, Sheldon,' he began, unusually nervous. 'I was thinkin', why don't we leave the ladies to braid hair an' talk make-up tonight, an' go out, just the boys?'

'Go out where?' Sheldon was alarmed. He'd only just started to accept being here.

'Yeah, where we goin'?' George Jr asked, looking up from a feature on Kurt Cobain, who he tended to think he was these days. He'd even grown his hair, much to his parents' disapproval, so it hung in curtains around his face, and kept the same ratty T-shirt all week, to his brother's disgust.

'Reckoned we'd go out in the desert, you know, campin'…'

'Camping?' As predicted, Sheldon was not impressed. 'Why on Earth would I want to do that?'

'Why, you scared?' George Jr shot back. 'It sounds cool!'

'I am not _scared_,' Sheldon glared at him scornfully. 'It's just a waste of my valuable time. How I am expected to work on my thesis in a _tent_?'

'C'mon, Shelly, it's one night. Nothin' you can't handle,' George continued, trying not to show that it hurt that his boy didn't want to spend time with him.

'Of course I can handle it!' Sheldon was far from certain of this. 'But my thesis is most likely going to revolutionise current Scientific thought, and is therefore far more important than sittin' around gettin' sunburn an' snake bites!'

At that moment, he caught sight of Mary standing in the doorway, his bag in her hand. 'C'mon, pack your bag, mister. Your daddy wants to take you boys out tonight.' She couldn't help flashing an 'I told you so' look to her husband, even so. Knowing the battle was lost; Sheldon took it and started sorting through his clothes. He was still sulking, but the folding and smoothing of the material helped calm him slightly. Maybe he could take some books too…

On arriving at the campsite, their first task was to set up the tent. Sheldon was soon to find out this was easier said than done.

'Why can't we just stay in those cabins?' he complained, referring to some they'd passed a while back.

'Cabins ain't wilderness, Shelly, we're livin' off the land!' George replied briskly, handing him some tent pegs.

_Not my kind of living off the land_, Sheldon thought, staring at the thin nylon that was supposed to protect them from scorpions and who knew what else that night.

'Here,' George Jr passed him a hammer. 'Bash 'em in. I done mine.'

'You're on a Junior High Vocational Pathway. You know about manual labour,' Sheldon replied, trying to hide his trepidation at having to do something practical.

George Jr wasn't a deep thinker, but looking over at his brother then, thought he understood.

'Yeah…hey, it's easy. Watch a minute. Ground's harder over here.' As Sheldon watched, George Jr knocked one of his tent pegs in. 'You try it.'

'OK.' He took the hammer and a peg, only to yell in pain as he hit his thumb. George couldn't help but snort with amusement about how clueless he was at something so simple when he could do all that stuff that was so smart.

'George!' Sheldon glared at him, willing himself not to pass out from the shock. 'I could've broken my thumb! An' if I broke my thumb, my research would be held up, maybe for weeks! Do you know what that could mean?'

Luckily for George Jr, he was spared a lecture on the numerous ramifications of denying the world Sheldon Cooper's genius for weeks on end as their father appeared from the car with a stove and a rucksack that clinked as he set it down.

'Hey, what you boys doin'? You OK?'

'I hit my thumb,' Sheldon moaned, sounding rather younger than he was. His father noticed the tone, knew it well, and sighed. He'd already spent the entire journey with Sheldon making his disdain for the whole endeavour more than clear. _Maybe this wouldn't work after all…_

'OK,' George managed, trying to be patient. Wasn't that what he always told people? That they had to take their time with Sheldon? 'I got the cooler here. Hold on to one of those beers.'

Sheldon did as he suggested, but still had to ask. 'Dad, do you really think alcohol is appropriate in a desert environment?'

George only paused for a moment. 'Oh yeah. It's appropriate.' _It certainly is tonight…_

They finished putting up the tent and Sheldon watched as his father showed them how to build up a fire, interested despite himself. Watching him, it occurred to Sheldon that maybe some practical knowledge was useful, even admirable. He couldn't have done it.

Taking out his lighter, George lit the fire just as the sun was going down, warming the rapidly cooling desert air, and took a hearty swig of his third beer.

'OK, let's get some dinner!'

George Jr reached for the sausages and beans enthusiastically, to which Sheldon almost jumped up in shock.

'George! You're just gonna _touch_ them? And is that fire really suitable to cook food adequately?' he continued, turning to his father in consternation. 'FDA guidelines state that pork should be cooked at precisely 160 degrees and in an appropriate environment to prevent food poisoning! Is _this_ an appropriate environment?'

'Shelly!' His father was starting to feel the effects of the past three beers now. 'It's gonna be fine! You just eat your sausage an' beans!'

Sheldon eyed the sausages sizzling in the pan in front of him. He still wasn't happy about it, but they did smell good…maybe they wouldn't need a midnight rush to the Emergency Room…

The bathroom facilities left a lot to be desired though, and much as he loathed the idea, Sheldon found that copying his brother and father's example was the lesser of two evils. Feeling most discomfited at the necessity of doing one's business out in the open, Sheldon joined them in the small tent later, struggling to get comfortable on the hard ground.

It wasn't long before his father was snoring loudly, sleeping it off again, and George Jr was in his way. Sheldon was cramped, uncomfortable and aching. What possessed his father to think this was a good idea? He tried reading one of his textbooks, but had to give up after a while as the glare from his torch was starting to give a headache, or maybe it was the first sign of listeria...

Stuffing his book back into his bag irritably, Sheldon tried to get to sleep, but couldn't. It was cold, the sausage, beans and beer were making a reappearance in the enclosed space, and he could be dying of food poisoning – he was never camping again as long as he lived. As he turned over though, he caught sight of the bright stars shining through a gap in the entrance to their tent. He made to close it, in the hope that would warm him up a bit, but actually moved closer to see them better. For a while, Sheldon just stared up at the stars, wondering at the process that created them, before the cool night air forced him back inside.

Nearly a thousand miles away to the west, a ten year old girl sat at her window, staring out at the same sky. She couldn't sleep either, and was worrying about going back to school in a couple of weeks. _If only she had a real friend there, just one…_ Amy sighed, and leaned on the window sill. Maybe one day, she'd have one…even if she didn't believe it.

She could never have imagined that one day; he'd be sitting right next to her, uncharacteristically quiet as he considered her words, and what his father had been trying to do.


End file.
